Darkness Rising

1. Opening Moves

Vienna, Austria
Somewhere near the Hofburg

Percy sat uncomfortably at a small desk, his legs cramped and in need of a good long walk, pouring over The Floo Guide to Austria, his eyes squinting at the small text. The last threads of the golden afternoon sun slipped below the sculpted Viennese rooftops and he sighed, carefully turning the page, not wanting it to get wrinkled or ripped. A chime from his alarm came a few minutes later; he was supposed to meet... someone outside of the Hofburg tonight, to deliver a briefcase. The Minister wasn’t clear on who it would be, only that he would recognize him on sight. Percy certainly hoped so, he wasn’t having very much luck communicating with the local population. He hadn’t bothered to learn much German before leaving London; Percy simply assumed that he wouldn’t be here long enough to need to know anything beyond ‘Guten Tag’. He had been here three days, and trying to find his way around, let alone understand any of the magnificent buildings in Vienna, was slightly short of impossible.

He rose out of his chair and stretched upwards, the knots in his stomach and legs coming undone slowly. It was warm in his tiny room, being June, and he yawned. The chime rang again, more urgently this time; he had charmed it to do so every three minutes until he had gone. Percy took a long look in the mirror, moved a single hair back that had falling out of place, grabbed the briefcase, and crossed to the door. Percy walked out, shut the door behind him, and took the stairs. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the lift exactly, but he preferred to travel with his own two feet. He knew that this was irrational, but Muggle lifts did not even look safe; this one was all glass and mirrors, giving a nice view of the hotel, but little else.

Walking into the lobby, Percy frowned. The lobby was ghastly, and it seemed to grate on his nerves even more every time he walked across it. A chandelier hung from the high ceiling, the glittering light reflecting off a thousand mirrors. White walls shone, and gilded panels marched stately around the vast room. He turned in his key wordlessly - Muggles here did that, apparently. The first time he had tried to take it out of the hotel, he was almost assaulted by the concierge for leaving with his key.

His red hair stood out against the rest of the passing foot traffic, all trying to go home, but no one really in any hurry. Percy set his feet in the direction of the cathedral. From across the street, a shabby, squat man muttered something to himself, and disappeared from the street, following Percy at a good distance, but never losing sight of his prey.

Percy tried to blend in with the crowd, now passing gothic St. Stephan’s, which Percy had visited earlier that day. Dusk was settling in, and the streetlights all popped on around him as he turned right, and set his feet in the director of the Hofburg. Shops with fabulously expensive shoes or handbags passed by, and he took a left onto a short smaller street, which opened onto a square. Directly in front of him was the sprawling Hofburg, the imperial palace of the Habsburg dynasty. A fountain sprayed in front of it, and as he had been instructed, he began to walk the distance towards it.

Just in front of the ‘House of Gentlemen’ shop, which sold British goods to Austrians, a liveried man stood trying to sell tourists tickets to a concert. He smiled and walked towards Percy.

“Classical concert tickets?” he asked in good English. Percy smiled, happy that someone spoke good English, shook his head, and tried to move around him, but the man smiled more broadly and held his arm. He asked again, this time a little more forcefully. Percy got a feeling in his stomach that something was very wrong with this, and he pulled his arm away a little rudely before trying to walk away.

Suddenly an invisible hand went roughly over his mouth and a wand poked through his shirt. Percy tried to draw his wand, but it was knocked away. With a simple word from the invisible man, he and his two captors vanished, the entire scene over in thirty seconds. Muggles walked by as if nothing had happened.

* * * * *

Harry Potter, now twenty-three and a member of the International Conference of Wizards (Security Division), watched Percy approach the man, say something to him, and then try to pull away. Harry moved to the dark wooden door of the shop, eyes never leaving Percy. Suddenly, Percy froze in front of him and Harry flung open the door and ran out into the middle of the street. By then, Percy had gone, along with whatever he had been carrying. He looked around him, trying to watch for anyone else who might attack, but found only people walking past him unconcerned. His foot came down on something round, and he bent to pick it up. Percy’s wand, long and thin, lay on the ground. Harry levitated it, slipped it into his pocket, and began to walk to the ICW headquarters, his mind already churning with possibilities.

* * * * *

Vienna, Austria
Somewhere under the Hofburg

Harry ran across the cobbled street, not conscious of the traffic careening around him and through the enormous iron gates of the Hofburg, flashing a badge at the guard on duty as ran. He entered a large courtyard and headed towards the far right corner. It wasn’t so much that he had lost Percy, well, okay it was. After six years of peace, something in his stomach told him that he was not going to like the answers that he would get once those responsible were caught. Crossing into the slightly cooler shade of a large archway, he walked to the beige wall, and tapped on it three times. A door appeared, shimmering out of its Illusionment charm. Checking for any muggles, Harry saw none, pulled open the door, which lead to a long series of steps winding down into the depths of the palace.

At the bottom of the stairs, Gloria Jenkins stood at attention, wand at the ready for any trouble. He smiled at her as he walked past, but she didn’t even twitch. Three steps beyond her, the corridor opened into a huge cavern, with hundreds of doors along the walls stretching to the far side. Hundreds of witches and wizards sat in meetings, at desks, and wandered the few corridors of this central command, the International Confederation of Wizards (ICW). The cavern was dominated by the gigantic translucent globe that floated just a few inches off the ground, and showed every magic spell being done at any one time. Different spells showed different colors; a ‘good’ spell, harmless in its intent, showed a pale blue, while a spell with malicious intent showed black. About twenty quills flew across parchments recording those spells and who cast them. Most of the spells were blue, but a few were black. Those were the ones which would have to be investigated.

Harry ignored the globe though, and started down one of the corridors, intent on finding Professor Dumbledore. Dumbledore had retired at the end of Harry’s seventh year, saying that with the Fall of Voldemort, he could leave knowing that Hogwarts was ‘as safe as might be expected for a normal year.’ He had come here to Vienna to take a more active role in the ICW and work towards a more integrated magical world.

Harry probably should have gone to his commander in the security division first, but he thought Dumbledore should know about Percy’s kidnapping, as he was supposed to deliver Percy to him, after all. His office was in the very middle of the left hand wall, and Harry had to count the doors to get to his, as each door looked exactly the same. He knocked, heard a muffled reply, and opened the door.

Dumbledore sat behind a large desk full of odd objects; a brass tube that shot sparks when you whistled at it, a silver plate that hummed whenever a hand was put near it, and a host of other things. “Yes, Harry?” Dumbledore asked pensively, adjusting his spectacles to get a better view of him, “Something has come up, Harry, otherwise you would not be in here. Something to do with Percy Weasley. Lemon drop?” he asked, holding out a box. Harry took one awkwardly, and sucked on it for a minute. Harry didn’t know quite what to say.

“He, well, er...he’s been kidnapped,” Harry finished in a rush, and let out a breath.

Whatever Dumbledore was expecting, it certainly wasn’t that, and he folded his wizened hands onto the dark desktop and sat in thought for a long moment. “Did Percy leave anything behind?” Harry nodded and laid Percy’s wand on Dumbledore’s desk. “I see,” said Dumbledore, reaching for it and twirling thoughtfully it in his fingers. “Percy knew what was happening, and left us a trace of him. Go run some tests and see if he is still in Vienna. I hope so, for his sake. It will be easier to find him and contain those responsible if he is.”

“Percy was carrying something, Professor. It went with him. It looked like a briefcase.” Harry remembered the briefcase Percy was carrying before he disappeared.

“Ah yes, the briefcase. Harry do not trouble yourself over that particular item. Mister Weasley will be perfectly capable of taking care of himself.” There was, however, an unspoken ‘I hope.’

Harry took back Percy’s wand, and left Dumbledore’s office quickly. He crossed the cavern and headed towards the globe. A set of stairs led him down to the security division, and his home office. Halitos Zinker, his Chief, grabbed him as soon as he was in sight, pulling him off into a corner, his forehead creased with worry. Zinker was one-sixteenth giant, and he stood just over seven feet tall and was wide, filling all but the largest spaces. He had bright, sharp eyes, and his black hair was tied back in a ponytail. “Potter, where is Weasley?” he asked gruffly, concern showing on his face. Harry quickly recounted the events of the evening, and told him that he was going to run tests on Percy’s wand. Zinker agreed, but said not to run off on a rescue mission without consulting him first. Harry nodded, and Zinker left him standing beside the stairs.

Harry returned to his office, trying not to notice the teetering pile of papers in his ‘in’ box. Sitting down in the comfy red and gold armchair in front of his desk, he pulled out Percy’s wand and laid it in front of him. He grabbed his own wand and pointed it at Percy’s, saying “Requiro,” and a stream of golden light connected the two wands. He closed his eyes, and an image of a crypt formed in his head, followed by a flash of a golden sunburst and a flag. Harry opened his eyes and knew that Percy was somewhere in Vienna, otherwise the images would not have been that distinct. He just had to find out where.

* * * * *

Vienna, Austria
In and Around the City

“Ich möchste fünf Stadtplanen, bitte. Haben Sie--(1)” Harry fumbled out, speaking slowly to the woman at the information booth.

“Ja, wir haben fünf Stadtplanen. Fünf Euro, bitte (2),” she answered, smiling at Harry. She was clearly amused by his attempt to speak German, and her eyes sparkled. Harry thrust his hands into his pockets, and searched for enough coins. He found a handful, counted out five Euros, and handed them over to the prim woman. She smiled even more deeply, and handed him five city maps. Harry thanked her, and walked back to his team from the ICW. A team of ten had been assembled to search the city for a sunburst and flag, and more importantly, for the crypts.

Harry moved them away from the booth and spoke quickly and quietly. “Right, so we’ll split off into groups of two and search. I’m with Andre.” A short wizard wearing an overly large beanie and Hawaiian shirt with a camera around his neck stepped next to him. “The rest of you, start searching outside the Ring. We’ll take inside.” He handed a map to each of them, tapping his wand on every one, charming them to reflect every area searched on all of the maps. Four pairs of wizards, all disguised as what they thought British tourists should look like then wandered off in all directions.

“Andre, let’s begin with St. Stephen’s and get it out of the way,” Harry told his partner. Gustav Andre nodded, and pointed to the steeple of the cathedral. They walked in silence, weaving their way through the crowded streets while always keeping the church in sight. Harry brooded over the fact that it had been under his watch that Percy was kidnapped. He had to work to get him back; but more than that, he had to be the one to get him back.

They turned a corner, and suddenly it stood before them, thrusting up into the blue sky. It was an impressive sight, even crowded among the rest of the city. Centuries of dirt and grime stuck to its Gothic walls and windows and the huge brown and gray blocks looked almost diseased. Somehow though, it retained its beauty throughout the splotches.

The pair went inside, drinking in the carvings above the doors. They entered through a side door, and the enormous nave stretched before them. Trunk-like pillars thrust up into the sky, supporting the roof, and polished pews sat silently below. A few people wandered around the church, tourists mostly, but the devout knelt in prayer before the altar.

At the left transept, a clock read when the next tour of the crypts was going to be - they had missed it by almost fifteen minutes, and there wasn’t going to be another one for forty-five more. Harry sighed, and motioned to Andre to come over to him. He whispered, “I want to check out the crypt. Cover me,” and started to head towards the stairs leading down to the crypt. He slipped under the rope at the top of the stairs, and as quietly as he could, walked down the steps into the gloominess below.

He could hear the authoritative voice of the tour guide echo though the crypt as he crept past the numerous tombs of the Habsburgs. There were thirty or more tombs; great stone affairs with carvings of Emperors and Dukes and their wives and children. Suddenly Harry felt something tingle the back of his brain, telling him to move along as he passed the tomb of Emperor Maximillian III. He looked at the tomb closely, and resisted the temptation to move past it, as strong as the tingle might have wanted. His head hurt, and he squinted - ‘was that a wand in the Emperor’s hand?’ he wondered, stepping back.

That instinct saved him, because without warning, the stone figure rose up and dove at Harry, who ducked out of the way, bashing into the tomb of Francis I. Harry pulled his wand out, and yelled “Stupefy!” at the stone figure advancing towards him, wand raised. The Stunning Spell did nothing, instead, it bounced off and hit a low pillar, causing a deep hole in it. Shouting “Tabesco!” at the figure, he flung a fiery red light. The light enveloped the statue, and quickly reduced it to a stone lump on the ground.

Harry caught his breath, and looked at the tomb that the statue was guarding. It had a series of runes running over it, in a language that Harry didn’t recognize. “Potter, you all right?” Andre asked, his voice making Harry jump a bit. The other wizard had come down because of all of the commotion - the tour group was too far away to hear anything now.

“Fine, Andre, fine. Some stone figure attacked me, that’s all,” Harry told him, relief obvious in his voice.

“Oh, is that all? I suppose after defeating You-Know-Who that an Austrian Stone Monster would be a walk in the park,” Andre laughed, and Harry gave him a dirty look. Even after six years, the week preceding the Fall of Voldemort was one that Harry did not like to think about. During that week, wizards and witches disappeared at a furious pace, and the village of Hogsmeade was virtually abandoned, the inhabitants taking refuge inside Hogwarts. The school itself had been attacked at the end of that week, and it was then that Harry finally broke Voldemort’s power and killed him. Sometimes the screams of that last battle still haunted him in his sleep.

Changing the subject Harry asked, “Can I borrow your camera for a minute? I want to capture these runes.” Andre nodded, and took the strap from around his neck and handed it to Harry. He took five pictures of each of the different sections, and hoped that would be enough for Christy Agitha, one of the rune-reader at the ICW.

They walked quickly out of the crypt after that, and exited out a side door, which led them to the back of the cathedral. Stopping beside a statue, Andre took a drink of water from a canteen he had brought with him, and leaned up against the statue. “Do you think we’ll ever find the church?” he asked Harry, who was gaping at something behind Andre. “What?” Andre asked, confused. Harry simply pointed behind him, and when Andre turned, he saw what Harry was looking at. There was a flag with a cross on it, in front of a golden sunburst.

“I think we’ve found our church,” Harry told him, pressing his wand to the city map to call the teams back to the ICW.

* * * * *

Vienna, Austria
Under St. Stephen’s Cathedral

Percy was frightened, and rightfully so. He had been kidnapped at wand point by an unknown assailant, and for the past twenty-four hours, hadn’t had so much as a moment’s rest. Images of his past came soaring into his head unbidden; arrogance from others toward his family, breaking up with Penelope, and a thousand others, all magnified to break him. The room around him was inky black. Percy stood in the center, chains pulling his arms above his head. Sounds of rats scurrying around him assaulted his ears, and every once in a while, one would nibble on his pants leg. He had had no contact with his captors since they left him there, and no idea when he would, either.

An image of himself sitting at the Wizengamot wander into his head. It was during Harry Potter’s fifth year, and the memory was of him greedily taking notes for Fudge as Potter was tried. Every feather on his quill stood out, and Percy couldn’t help but feel shame for following the trial with unabashed glee. As Fudge spoke for the first time, Percy wrote as fast as he could, dipping his quill into the well recklessly, trying to get all of it down.

“Good evening, Percival Ignatius Weasley,” a slithering voice said to him, echoing off the walls, and interrupting his memories. Percy shivered in spite of himself. “I trust you find your accommodations pleasing?” A low, throaty laugh asked the question, and Percy thrashed about, trying to find out from where the voice was coming. It was no use though, total darkness surrounded him completely. “Weasley, you have something that we want.”

“What do you want from me?” Percy croaked out, his voice hoarse and cracked.

“I think you know what we want,” came the reply, and the room exploded in light, blinding him. He heard footsteps coming towards him, boots walking on some sort of metal grate. Percy braced himself for what was to come, muscles tensed. The voice cried, “Crucio!” and Percy flung himself around wildly, his chains taunt. His world was pain, there was no beginning and no end to the fire that contorted every limb and sinew he had. As soon as it had come, it stopped, and it was almost as if Percy could not remember it. Almost. “Do you remember now?”

Percy chuckled at his captor, mostly because he knew these questions to be futile. “I have nothing to say. The Ministry of Magic does not negotiate with--”

The deep voice cut him off and again said “Crucio!” Percy contorted wildly, and his chains creaked and groaned with his efforts. Pain came over him in waves, and he could barely scream. It ended just as abruptly as the last time. His eyes squinted open, and felt a spoon at his mouth. Percy tried resisting, but it was forced between his chapped lips, and he swallowed it without realizing it. A haze fell over his mind, and he found himself unable to control his speech.

“Why are you in Vienna, Weasley?” the voice asked.

“I am to deliver a briefcase containing a treaty between the Minister of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards,” his rational mind screamed, but neither his body or his consciousness responded.

“What is the treaty?” It was asked softly, dangerously low.

“I do not know.” Percy answered truthfully. “I was told to bring it to Vienna to present before Albus Dumbledore for his signature.

“What does the treaty contain?” The question was harder, more insistent.

“I was not told what the treaty contained when I left London, nor did I read it en route to Vienna.”

“You lie! Cruci--” Percy tried to brace himself for the onslaught, but it was useless when his body wasn’t under his control. It never came, though. He heard a second wizard enter the chamber, and suddenly he could see again. The second person had brought the lights down. He was stooped over, and a deep cowl hid his face completely. The first man dropped to his knees and bent his head. “Great Master, I have been unable to extract the truth from this one. It almost seems as if he knows nothing.” The first man finished, but remained kneeling.

The second man dismissed his failure with a gesture. “It is of no matter, Stevens,” a voice emanated from that cowl that Percy almost recognized, but it wasn’t quite the same as he remembered. “What does matter is that we have Weasley here with us.”

Percy’s eyes widened, and he felt control returning to him. “What--what will you do with me?” He asked, frightened of what the answer would be. The deeply hooded man limped over to him, shaking off the offer of help from his lackey. A gnarled, bony white hand reached up and pulled the hood down over his head, revealing exactly who was inside. Tufts of white hair flew in all directions, while a single gray eye bored into Percy. Most of his face was badly disfigured, and scars crisscrossed the rest.

Percy couldn’t stop himself before asking the obvious question, “Who are you?” in a very quiet voice.

The wizard below him coughed, and then smiled very disturbingly. “Do you not recognize me, traitor?” Percy shook his head. It was decidedly odd to be having a normal conversation with someone whose body was so disfigured. “I suppose the years change even the most pure of wizards,” a simple gesture of his hand, and he was able to raise himself up again, and his face turned into someone recognizable.

It was Lucius Malfoy. “But you’re--you’re...” Percy trailed off.

“Dead?” Lucius finished, and dropped the illusion, his body falling back onto itself. “No, I am very much alive. Lucius Malfoy is a survivor. And with your help, I will survive forever!” A strange red light came into Lucius’ eye at that moment, causing it to pulsate.

“I’ll never help you, Malfoy. There is no peace with the--” It was a popular saying at the end of the Second Voldemort War, when the Ministry and Dumbledore was winning, and Voldemort lost some of his closest supporters.

“Such brave words for a blood traitor,” Lucius cut him off. “However, I think you will find that I am very persuasive.” With a gesture, the room was plunged into darkness once again, and Percy dreaded what he knew was coming.

* * * * *